


Roomies (y'all know the drill)

by misomikko



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, But Still No Plot, Competitive Flirting, Cunnilingus, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sexual Tension, Smut, Vaginal Sex, but the reader matches his himbo energy, his stache is still in one piece, i read every smut i write in a southern accent so i'm taking this as a sign, lil' bit of fluff, never happened, no betrayal, nope - Freeform, what's your number type beat, whiskey does NOT get blended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29491167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misomikko/pseuds/misomikko
Summary: You, Whiskey, and the team are staying abroad at a hotel. Unfortunately, you get saddled with the worst- and best- roommate.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman) & Reader, Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman) & You, Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	Roomies (y'all know the drill)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! A few notes here for your convenience:  
> \- I reference the reader blushing, but don't talk about color, as to not exclude any skin tones! I'm talking more about the physical sensation of blushing as a rush of blood, or the "blush face" with the wide eyes and scrunched up mouth and all that jazz. I also reference hickies, because from what I've researched, they are visible on all skin tones! However, I am pasty as they come, so if I'm wrong or excluding something, please let me know! <3  
> \- The reader has a vagina! No gender mentioned, just tits, bits, and the ol' ham clam.  
> \- Yes, the reader DOES wear boxers. Because they're COMFORTABLE, DAMMIT. Have some more respect for the turtlenecks of the tighty-whitey universe.  
> \- The reader's code name is "Cognac," but they go by "Connie," which I hope is gender neutral enough! It's listed as gender neutral on most baby name sites, and is not only short for Constance, but also is derived from the word for "King." It's either this or "Yak."

Whiskey was, undoubtedly, the worst roommate. Slobby mess? Check. Doesn't buy his own goddamn cereal? Check. Drinking straight out of the carton? Double check. And worst of all? You were the exact same way. It wasn't natural. You needed a clean freak with a stick up their ass to fix the mess that you made on the daily. To stop you from trying to juggle the eggs you were planning on frying. To stop _him_ from trying to juggle _more_ eggs than you (you'd bet him that you were more agile than he was, and he decided juggling was the way to test it. Neither of you won).

But somehow it worked. It was probably Ginger from the second floor, who worried about you constantly and became not only one of your closest friends but your unofficial babysitter. But there was also a strange teamwork between you and Jack that left you both puzzled every time. You'd be wildly sorting through loose sheets, already late to a briefing, when he would crouch down beside you and silently shuffle through the rest of the notes. He'd fall asleep writing a report, and when he'd wake up, find a fully completed paper.

It was perfect.

**_-BANG! THUNK, THUD, THUD._ **

Well, almost.

_Ear shattering ham hiding at two in the morning? Check._ You sighed. Of course, you weren't going to judge. _If I was that... objectively attractive, I'd probably bang half the city, too._

You tried not to listen out of basic decency, but he _was_ loudly sporking without any regard for your sleep schedule. And you _were_ nosy as shit. Like, if someone's having a growling contest in the next room, you can't _not_ listen, right? And either way, Whiskey had no shame. _You_ might as well ditch yours. One more thing to tease him about over a couple beers.

Honestly, this episode was pretty interesting. Apparently, she was a baby-talker the closer she got. Wait, never mind, she was a screamer. Which sounded _really_ weird when she was still trying to baby-talk through it. _Do some girls actually sound like that? Are they just faking it because of the skewed expectations for people with vaginas enforced by the porn industry, or am I just having really shit sex? I mean, yeah, I **am** having really shit sex, but still. My brain's **never** gone into baby talk in bed. Oh shit, I wonder how she talks to babies. That's gotta be **real** awkward for her._ You tried not to burst into giggles. _Jesus chr-_

"Oh _fuck_ yeah, sweetheart, cum on that cock like a _good girl_ , god, you take me so _well_ , baby." 

_Oh._ You froze for a second, frantically quelling the headrush you got as soon as it registered. _Shit_ _. Well, gotta give him props on his dirty talk game. I mean, **sweetheart?** **Good** **girl?** Get it, cowboy. _You had to admit, it was in hella good form. You certainly admired his format: for the first third, talk about how much you want her, for the second, make some grunting noises, for the last half, say some filthy shit and put in a touch of praise right as she orgasms. A pretty good script. _He should be in sales,_ you thought. _He'd be **fantastic** at cold calls. _

Of course, that wasn't gonna stop you from giving him hell about it tomorrow.

***

You slept in the next morning, and by the time you woken up, he'd left. You were assigned to a different task, which meant you wouldn't see him until much later. Which _meant_ you had all day to plan your mockery. 

You got back to the hotel before he did and waited with abject glee. You were halfway through dinner (if it was possible to eat soup maliciously, you'd be doing it) when he entered. He looked a mess, with ruffled hair and dark circles under his eyes. _God he looks gorgeous- which I am only noting because I wish I could wear sleep deprivation like he does- and I want to hold his face and trace those beautiful dark circles with my thumbs- so I can pop his stupid eyeballs out- I want to just stare at him for hours- so I can figure out how his magnetism works and beat him at his own game. I want to fu-_ You shook yourself. You had a job to do.

_"Hey sheeoogerpie,"_ you sung in the sickly sweet voice the baby-talker used. _"Are you ready for round chew~?"_

"Oh, Lord. Here we go," He grumbled, rolling his eyes in fake exasperation.

_"C'mere, baybie, got some milk for youu-"_ You batted your eyelashes outrageously.

"Connie, If you don't shut that pretty mouth right there-"

_"Come onnnn, my widdle suguh-dick-"_ You couldn't contain your laughter and put your head in your arms, cackling gleefully.

"Hand to god, one day you're gonna find that soup poisoned."

"Sorry, sorry." You fully intended to stop, but you couldn't help but throw in one last dig. "But really, I hope you had a great night smoocheying and woocheying-"

"I'm warning you-"

"And _definitely coochieing-"_

Enough was enough. He picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder, and deposited you back in your room. "Shoo. And stay out!"

You bounced off the mattress, smirking. "Ooohhh," You said in a sing-song voice, "I guess someone _likes_ the baby voice!"

"Not a _chance_ , partner. Actually," He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "The whole time I was focusing on drowning her out."

After a moment of stunned silence you both broke out into peals of laughter.

"So THAT'S why you were so loud," You gasped, trying to remember how to breathe. His face, red from laughter, turned a shade redder.

"Oh lord. I didn't think about you hearing _me_."

You cackled even harder, clapping him on the shoulder, practically crying with laughter as his face turned from mortification to grudging humor. You adopted a deep, manly voice, sticking out your hips dick-first. "Oh, _YEAH,_ sweetheart, you feel so _GOOD_ on my _GIGANTIC, THROBBING MEAT MUSCLE._ " 

"Oh, so you were paying attention, were you?" He said with a smirk. It was your turn to blush. But you completely _REFUSED_ to let him win.

"Oh _absolutely._ I stay up all night, just to hear your voice as you, uh, _tiptoe through the two lips_." You counter. You actually _did,_ but he didn't need to know that. _Fuck. Stop thinking about it. Stop. Thinking. About. His. Throaty. Sexy. Voice. You. Need. To. Win. This. Game._

"I don't quite believe that's sarcasm," he grinned. _Smug bastard._ "I mean, I'm sure if it is, you won't be perturbed if I say a bit more." _Okay, okay. He's calling my bluff. That's fine. I can get through this. I don't even like him that... that way._

"Do your worst, Daniels," You dared, steeling yourself. "I could use a laugh."

His eyes narrowed and his jaw set. You couldn't tell if there was a glint of fire in his eyes, or if it was just a reflection of you on their gleaming surface. He stalked towards you with an intensity that you'd never seen, only heard through a layer of dry wall. It almost seemed real. _He's a good actor, isn't he? My **god,** why isn't he in **sales?** He could sell me a damn tire and tell me it was a Buick and dammit, I'd take it in a second._ He was closer now, and still going. And it was goddamn _working_. _Fuck_. You had to get out. You would _not_ let him win. You dashed back into the kitchen, mumbling something about your soup getting cold and his seduction technique being weak as shit (it wasn't).

_"I could use a laugh."_ he repeated your words slowly, thoughtfully. "You see, I don't think you could call a moan laughter, sweets." You can practically _hear_ his swagger from behind you, crossing the room at an almost gloating pace. "But it's easy to mix up words when you can't even think straight." Oh god, of course you couldn't get any soup. You were eating it with a fork. _Focus._ He laughs softly. " _Shit,_ sugar, if I'd known it would get you like this, I woulda fucked her against the wall and put on a damn good show for ya. Not like she could do anything to me now that I've seen you like this." His voice is closer. "Flustered." Closer. "Bothered." Closest. "Beautiful." The words tickled the back of your neck, his arms caged you in against the counter, and _Christ_ , it took everything you had not to shiver against him. You gritted your teeth and straightened your back, refusing to turn around to meet him.

"That's pretty impressive. Just not when I'm sober. Nice try though, Whiskey-dick."

"Well, _Condom_ , if we're gonna be picky here, my verbal technique is normally paired with the physical. At least a... light touch." You tried not sigh at the thought.

"I think you should cut your losses before you _really_ embarrass yourself, _Agent_. But fair is fair. You wanna fight dirty, let's fight dirty." You were vaguely aware you were digging your own grave, but you couldn't back down now.

"Oh, _I'm sure you can get dirty."_ His nose stroked up the back of your neck, his lips almost- _almost_ following. It was agony, feeling the heat from them but nothing else, feeling his warmth but knowing it was just an act, just some playful competition. But your little dares had never gone this far. _"_ _Bet you can get goddamn **filthy**_ _, can't you?"_ Your head tilted back imperceptibly, so slight it could just be an accident, but far enough that his lips finally met the top of your spine. "Bet if you'd just let go you'd be the _wildest, sweetest_ thing. And I'd be _damned_ if I wouldn't make it worth your while." His hands, braced on the table, slid over the tops of yours, sliding up around your wrists and caressing your pulse. _Fuck_. The last thing you needed was him knowing your heart rate.

"You wouldn't," you retorted, hoping he'd leave before you broke in his arms. His hands, calloused from rope work that kept you awake for _nights_ , stroked the smooth flesh of your wrists, sliding over any scars from the field with an almost loving touch. It would be so easy to turn around and let yourself melt, to prove him right, to gaze into those big brown eyes and kiss him right on his beautiful mustached mouth, kiss him until he _understood_. "See, Daniels, Unlike your poor naïve _guests_ , I have _some_ standards."

"For the sake of everything holy, I _know_ you're not like them." The frustration in his voice startled you. Did you go too far? "They can't cheat at cards like you, they can't laugh like a banshee like you, they can't challenge me like you." He sighed. "Christ, honey, I don't know why I was cursed with a partner as sexy as you. Waste of a damn good friend." He spun you around, towering over you with eyes so intense but tender you felt like your entire chest was collapsing inside of you. 

"I bet you'd taste better than the baby-talker, better than the screamer, better than any of them, baby, and sweet _Jesus_ , it _hurts_ , it _hurts_ when I come home and fuck almost anyone I want, _almost,_ and I finish and I almost feel good, _almost_ , and then you- you walk by, everything I could ever want wrapped up in a too-big T-shirt, reminding me of the _one_ thing I _just can't have."_

"Pretty sure this isn't your usual technique, pal," you joked weakly, mind short-circuiting. You hoped your arms sliding over his shoulders conveyed everything you couldn't say. His eyes darkened, slicing into you, and when he spoke next, it was almost a growl.

_"Damn right it isn't."_

And just like that, he was on you, hands gripping the sides of your face and pulling you into him, lips mashed into yours like he wanted to _become_ part of you, to get even closer until there was no seam between you and him, him and you. Just need, want, assurance, safety. Home. 

You reveled in the embrace until you both were sure it was real, that it was _happening_. That you were _his_. He wanted to explore every bit of you, every piece of you that you'd give him. He wanted to eat you up and savor you at the same time. He hadn't felt so desperate in decades. And now he had you. He _had_ you. His hand, still on the underside of your jaw, clenched involuntarily, groping the soft flesh of your neck. And you _moaned_.

Oh. _Well._ Fuck savoring. Fuck waiting. He wanted to tear you open and devour you. He wanted to make an angel scream filth towards the heavens. He wanted you wrecked, shaking, _gasping_ , all for him. All for him, for as long as you'd let him have you.

Pulling you away from the counter, he pushed you against the wall. For a beat, he held you against the wall with one hand on your sternum, just staring down at you in intense fascination and dark awe. His hand moved to rest under your left breast, squeezing just to make you gasp. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth, amusement cracking his expression, was the only warning he gave you before pressing his thigh between your legs and arresting your lips with his, meeting you at every expanse of flesh. Gently, he suckled on your bottom lip, a stark contrast to the rough way he ground you against his thigh. He sucked harder, and you felt your blood rushing to meet him there, the delicate capillaries bursting and coloring your lips even more. With a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, he released his hold, letting you slowly drag against his teeth. Without so much as a breath, he hung his head forward, cheek to cheek with you, his beautiful mouth a hair's breadth from your ear.

_"God, honey, I could suck on you for hours, so **fuckin'** sweet for me. Make every inch of skin blush with my lips. Nibble on that- **fuck-** beautiful neck. Can I do that, angel? Can I suck some marks down that pretty,"_ he thrusted his hip up, rocking you against his thigh, _"little,"_ another thrust- _"neck of yours?"_

" _Christ,_ Whiskey, take _anything,_ anything you want," you managed to gasp, that spot right under your jaw tingling with a feeling so arousing it was close to pain, making the cords on your neck tense in pleasure.

His hand slid up, over your collarbone, curving around the base of your neck and gliding upwards, his pointer finger right across the underside of your chin as he tilted your head back. He curved your neck up to meet him, his hand still holding it steady, as he peppered open-mouthed kisses over the smooth flesh. The slide of his wet lips followed by the sharp bite of teeth and the delicious suction and _shit,_ the roughness of his tongue and the thigh still working you against him and _fuck it's too much too good too-_

_"Get up here,"_ He growled as he picked you up. He carried you over to the couch, and by the time you'd hit the cushions, your legs were spread around him. He perched, one leg on the couch, his hands on your waist looking down at you with a look you couldn't quite decipher.

"I know you've heard me sweet-talk a million times, but I swear to god, I've never done those words justice until now, sugar." A soft gasp escaped your lips. You were open, truly vulnerable for the first time in years. And worse, you couldn't get yourself to hate it. "Now," he husked, _"Why don't you open up those gorgeous legs for me and let me get a taste, huh?"_ A question lingered in his eyes, and you answered in turn by unbuttoning your slacks. 

"Come on, Cowboy."

He practically clawed your clothes off, slacks tossed somewhere, anywhere, until you were left in your boxers.

"These aren't some kind of family heirloom, right?" 

"Why the _fuck_ would they be-"

"Better safe then sorry, sweetheart." And with that (holy _fuck_ ), he tore them apart. 

His fingers spread you slowly, taking in his prize with nothing short of _hunger,_ before diving in. You gasped as his tongue, practically dripping onto you, slid gently from the bottom of your cunt to the top, backing away just- _just_ short of your clit, curling back into his old infuriating smirk as you whined, consoling you with a kiss on the thigh.

He continued at the same infuriating pace, each time reaching a little higher, pressing a little harder, practically restraining you as your hips chased his tongue as it pulled away. Just as you were about to scream with frustration, his tongue squeezed into a point as it delicately, _finally,_ drew circles over your clit. He kept his mouth on you while he slid onto the floor until he was kneeling with your legs draped over his shoulders.

He clutched your thighs to him, burying his face further into you with relish. He planted a kiss on your clit, humming a muffled coo as you moaned. Rhythmically, he sucked your clit into his lips, pulling it in and flicking it with the tip of his tongue every time. You weren't quite aware of what you were saying but you felt the memory of _please_ and _take it_ and _so good_ on your lips as you spurred him on. When his fingers dipped inside you, it was only a matter of time before your muscles seized and you came, shuddering in ecstasy, on his tongue.

He lapped you up, grinning as you squeezed around his head, hearing your heartbeat race, trying to keep pace with your orgasm. He gave your overstimulated clit a couple final flicks, just to see you twitch.

"Just sweet as fuckin' honey, aren't you?"

You tried to form words, to no avail. "Whiskey- _gasp-_ Whiskey I-" 

_"Shh,_ sweetheart, I'm here." He climbed back on the couch, crawling through your legs and holding you as your breathing calmed. You stared into his eyes, and you just _floated,_ but you wanted _more_ , and as soon as you were able to speak, the first word out of your mouth was "inside." His eyes flashed and suddenly your hand was on the zipper of his jeans and his hand was unbuttoning your shirt and his hand pulled out his, _sweet J_ _esus no wonder he walks like that_ , and you were peeling off your bra and his mouth was on your left nipple and then the crook of your neck and he was wetting himself across your slit and then he was _biting down as he slid **inside,** and holy shit, you were done for. You were fucked in every sense of the word._ And you looked up at him and realized he was just as fucked as you were. 

_"Even better than I'd imagined-"_ wait, he'd imagined this? _"No pussy better, no one as sweet as you."_

Your face must have given you away, because he leaned in, teeth gritted, arousal bordering on fury. _"Don't you **dare** look at me like that, all shocked and innocent, like you haven't been driving me crazy just for the hell of it. And you have, **haven't you,** with your smart fucking mouth. You have no clue what you've done to me, **sweetheart."**_ He practically hissed the endearment into your ear, his hand clenching hard onto your tender breast until you cried out.

_"_ _I have to close my eyes when I'm fuckin' them, baby, I have to tune out their voices because they **don't sound**_ ** _right,_** _and for a second, it almost **works** ,_ _and it's it's **heaven** , pretending it's your ass I'm making red, pretending it's your neck in my hands, pretending it's _**_you_** _screaming my name, but it's **never enough** ,"_ He's gasping out the phrases, **_"It's never, ever enough-"_**

-And suddenly he's quiet, deadly calm as he halts, and all you can think is _this is it. The calm before the storm_. And he's almost _menacing_ _,_ his eyes glinting with a dangerous focus you've only ever seen him wear when he takes out a whole legion of hostiles, and _God,_ it's _hot_.

_"And now that I have you, **honey,"**_ he grits out, _"I'm gonna fuck you like I mean it. I'm gonna fuck you until you're **screaming** for me, because now that I've heard those pretty little whines of yours, I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough." _As if on cue, a low, shivering moan escaped you, making him chuckle darkly.

_"But sweetheart... **I'm sure as hell gonna try. For as long as you let me.** So tell me if you need me to slow down, because otherwise, swear to god, I'm gonna pound that sweet, tight cunt as hard as I fucking can."_ You couldn't do anything but nod.

And he did. He moved in long, full strokes, the head of his cock catching around the tight flesh just inside of you as if it knew just where you needed it, and sliding back in, filling you up with the ache you'd been aching for, the pain you'd been pining for. You couldn't think straight, just _ohhhhhhh_ and _fuuuuck_ and _shit,_ and you were lowing, your voice spiking at every thrust, and _shit,_ you'd never understood screamers, but now his thrusts were more like pounds, wrenching the sounds from your throat, and you _got it_. 

_"Come on, sugar, feel so fuckin' incredible around me, takin' me so goddamn well, lookin' so goddamn_ ** _good_** _underneath me,"_ he slaps your breast, the upper mounts of his palm striking your nipple. _Give me one more moan- **shit-** love the way you say my name." _ You could only cry and sob the word, like a mantra, keeping you from losing it.

"Whiskey, _Whiskey_ _, oh plea- so good- take it, please take me, Jack, it's all yours-"_

_"-All mine, huh? All laid out for me? Shit, all the times I've watched you,"_ he panted, burying his face in the crook of your neck, _"Every little thing you do gets me so hard, darlin', so damn **hard**." _His breaths were shaking, " _The way you moan over a sip of that god-awful soup, like you're **trying** to fuckin' torture me,"_ he nipped lightly at the corner of your jaw, _"I try so hard but then you walk into my room while you're brushing your teeth, talking through a mouthful of white, and I'm trying not to think about cumming down your throat but you look me in the eyes and you **swallow** the stuff and I almost lose it," _His breath warmed the side of your neck, _"Which, while sexy, is a **disgusting** habit, by the way."_

_"Fluoride ingestion,"_ you gritted, clinging to your sanity, _"is not going to- **FUCK-** kill me, Daniels."_

_"Tell yourself that when you're,"_ he counters roughly, _"-toothless."_

_"The better-"_ you clenched around him, _"_ _to blow you with, **agent**."_

The shiver that ran through him might've been the best thing you'd ever felt, andsuddenly he was lifting you to rest you on his lap and _oh, oh, oh my godohmy **god** please don't stop, please-_

**_SLAP._**

You gasped, looking at him in a shock that becomes anticipation as you see the look in his eyes. It's _feral._

_"_ _You little fucking minx,"_ he was _growling_ from between your breasts. _"You gorgeous fucking **creature** , driving me fucking **crazy**."_

**_SLAP._** You were putty in his hands as they left mark after mark on your flesh.

_**Look**. **At**. **You**. Clever little shit finally got itself cockdumb, isn't that right, beautiful?"_

_**SLAP.** _Tears welled in your eyes as you gasped in pleasure.

_"I asked you a question, cheeks,"_ he crooned, drinking up the skin on your collarbone.

**_SLAP-_** _"Yes, oh god Jack, **yes**_ _, never felt like this before, never this good, no one like you..."_ He ground up into you, harshly bearing down on your cervix for one aching moment.

**_"That's goddamn right, sugar."_ **

And he was back to a brutal pace, somehow even faster than before. You were screaming, crying out his name while he snarled sweet filth, worship and sacrilege arriving at a searing synthesis, burning through you with an unbearable heat. You were clinging to him, feeling desperate, feeling helpless, feeling _feverish_. You couldn't tell whether the ruthless clapping was from his hips or his hands or both, and you didn't care, all you cared about was keeping his eyes on you.

_"Can't believe you're mine tonight,"_ his voice was hoarse, raw. _"This is **mine**."_ he wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you to him, while his other hand cradled the back of your neck. You leaned over, forehead pressed to his, seeing your delirium reflected in his countenance. His lips were slightly open, his jaw trembling as he moaned silent pleas. Your hands gripped the sides of his face as you felt the last bit of your composure slip away. His eyes grew reverent as yours widened in delicious panic. Paralyzed by the intensity, you came, eyes wild, around his cock. 

_"There we go, honey, so beautiful, so sweet, so good to me, oh **God** , so good to me."_ As you came down from your peak, he continued to thrust, sending you right back up, somehow pushing you towards another. 

_" **Shit** , Connie, can- can I..."_ He struggled to speak until you put him out of his misery.

_" **Yes** , Whiskey, **please** , Jack, want- **need** your cum inside me, keep it in all night, baby, all night."_ He groaned, a murmur that spiked into a moan that spiked into a hoarse, thunderous growl as you came again, his cum mixing with your own inside you.

You sat like that, just clutching each other, for what felt like eons. He kissed you gently as he pulled himself out, and lifted you up in his arms as he carried you to get some clothes. Once you'd dressed (kinda), he slung you over his shoulder and hoisted you, kicking and squirming, into his room, flopping you both on the bed. 

"Never took you for such a cuddler, snookums," you teased. He smirked cheekily.

"Only for gorgeous little bastards like you, Con."

"Huh. Guess that makes the two of us."

**Author's Note:**

> And yes, I couldn't help but make a dig about popped eyeballs. Needless to say, I cope with humor.


End file.
